


Frans Extras

by TheMsource



Series: Frans Oneshots [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Acceptance, Adult Frans, Alternate Universe - Fated (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Frans Family (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Mobtale, Alternate Universe - Reapertale (Undertale), Bonding, Christmas Fluff, Comedy, Crime, Culture, Dating, F/M, Family Feels, Female Frisk, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Frans - Freeform, Gifts, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, If I Think It I Write It, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jokes, Light/Dark Themes, Love, Marriage, Mentions of Violence, Mutual Pining, Other, Possessiveness, Racism, Random - Freeform, Serious, Shameless Shipping, Teasing, There's other characters but they're side players, Trigger Warnings, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere, age gap, drinking/alcoholism, events, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28340961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMsource/pseuds/TheMsource
Summary: Oneshots that don't follow a prompt week, were made for gifts or events, or just randomReposted here fromtumblrfor easier reading ^^Ratings will be posted for every chapter and tags added when updated
Relationships: Frisk/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Frans Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636411
Comments: 33
Kudos: 33





	1. Don't Fear The Reaper (Reaper Sans)

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: M  
> TW: Current world situation might make this a bit sensitive. (Death, Plague Mention)  
> [Song for Inspiration](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVn6b9QQZeM&ab_channel=JessHebert)

Frisk couldn’t take another day. 

Staring unseeing into the screen of her laptop she could only frown as her thoughts drifted; memories of wasted minutes that could’ve been spent in favored company searing an angry burn into her heart, fleeting moments of loneliness and desolate imaginings coating her in a veil of uncertainty and numbness.

When had she last gone outside? Had last heard from a loved one or reached out to those she’d claimed to care about? How long had it been before the world crumbled around her and the countless people inhabiting it dwindled down to mere thousands?

Even now her race fought to hold on, all the medical supplies left to the world reaching the brink of extinction under its exorbitant use, medical technology breaking down with barely a soul left alive that had the knowledge to effectively fix them.

One of humanity’s worst fears realized.

Slowly she turned her gaze to her window and watched as a thin blanket of ash and disease fell tauntingly just outside the safe haven of her home. What looked as if harmless bits of grey and white nothing more than the teasing touch of death itself. Every lazily falling speck a testament to a life lost, a future cut short. 

They were so ugly, yet so beautiful in their descent.

As it always did when she glanced outside, something pulled at her chest. A morbid sense of wanderlust…and a craving that teasingly urged her to don her mask and coat, to venture out into the tainted world promising sickness and suffering. Why that feeling always came, persuasive and insistent, she didn’t know.

But the nostalgia it brought…

Frisk could still remember what it was like to see the sun and feel it’s warmth on her skin. She could still remember the smiles and laughter her family had given as young ones ran and played around them, splashing with precious sparkling lake water and indulging in the freedom to explore and adventure without worry.

Her family…that had been lost…because the world hadn’t been prepared for the apocalypse.

When the sky had blistered red and the air had swirled with the planet’s resentment and withheld rage, airborne toxins infecting and striking people down with barely the whisper of a passing breeze, she had cried. Frisk had sobbed at the lack of mercy shown to the lifeforms that had so tainted the world with countless eons of carelessness and greed. Nature was no better than humanity had been in it’s ruthlessness.

Frisk had been forced to endure it first hand. Her mother’s face as she passed still hung in her mind, her brother’s, her sister’s, and then her aunt and uncle. All going out with soft smiles and pleas for her to be safe, tears stinging cheeks and hands clutching each other in futile reassurances.

Death had been cruel, death had been relentless. 

Frisk fought, fought so hard to promise them she’d survive and that she would make it through this all encompassing hopelessness that had swallowed the light of the world with a clammy and bitter victory, but everyday got harder…longer.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours, and then hours to days…

Her determination which had once been boiling and strong had gradually simmered, wilted and turned pale as the mental walls she had tried so hard to build had begun to weaken. She knew humanity was surviving, many were doing well by staying in their homes, locked away and isolated, but so many were still falling and losing everyday. Not a day passed that another wasn’t lost.

Frisk…wondered sometimes what it would be like to go outside again. Just to feel the air on her skin, the constant state of entrapment forgotten as she raced through tall blades of grass and ducked under low hanging branches, to be alive once more. And as she did another pull just as insistent as the last tugged at her chest. 

She was no fool, she knew what it was calling her, who it was.

At least she thought she did…

But she wanted oh so much to enjoy the outside again.

Just once…

She counted silently in muted murmurs as she tried to chase the urge away. Her golden eyes moving between falling flecks of morbid debris with every number that slipped between her lips. But as her count grew, the urge which so often became smothered by the robotic droning, only escalated in equal measure. She couldn’t drown it out like she’d done countless times before.

Frisk went silent as her eyes shifted down to the grey blanket that had once been her vibrantly green yard. Where had previously been the garden she’d tended with her father, now rested a depressed and gruesome looking mound, darker than all the surrounding landscape as if sadness itself had soaked into it, turning it to filthy mud.

Were there any plants left in the world? A single Rose or Lilly?

…could they still be found?

The silently burning urge turned into an inner roar of desperation, the days she’d failed to keep track of gaining momentum like a snowball as they tumbled down the slope of her mind and forced her heart to pound with anxiety and crazed desire. A few minutes, she only needed a few minutes outside. 

What would a few minutes hurt?

Frisk ignored how strangely satisfied the persistent tug in her chest felt as she took a deep breath and moved over to her dresser, the few steps taken as if in slow motion. Her hands shook as she withdrew a jacket, thick gloves and leggings, anything to protect her skin from the illicit darkness raining from the sky, and then finally her mask. She stared at it as she ran gentle fingers over the goggles, brushed soothingly over the air filters and then reverently the beak. 

She supposed it was a kind of irony to wear a plague doctor’s mask, the literal and interpreted face of death in order to protect one’s self from the destruction reigning around them. In their hope humanity had taken to wearing death’s visage, the thought of fooling the all powerful being into sparing those he crossed. After all death couldn’t reap himself could he? 

Frisk liked to think that it worked, wanted to believe it would, even if it hadn’t spared her loved ones. It was a foolish fancy she knew but still…when there was little hope left in the world it was best to cling to what one could find.

With a resolute calmness she didn’t feel she slipped it over her face and dressed herself, drifted over to the doorway and hesitated with her hand outstretched. Her ears rung, a drone of furiously pounding blood in her veins silencing all the indiscernible sounds of her house into a buzzing white noise. Her heart was racing, trying to burst from her chest as she sucked air through the mask and into her straining lungs.

She quickly flung the door open and rushed outside, slamming it shut behind her where she froze in place, like a deer caught in the headlights. The tugging abruptly stopped and she slowly relaxed at how nothing rushed her, no force or being appearing to tear her asunder. Gasping from the small rush of adrenaline that still coursed through her she slowly panned the street, taking in it’s barren state before glancing up at the sky.

Frisk fell back against the door in twisted awe.

A sky, black as night, greeted her. It’s vastness dotted with barely perceivable clouds that all broke apart and refused in distorted flows and turns, and from them falling the unending dirge of the Earth’s tears, a silently promised oblivion.

She shut her eyes as she quivered and shook, savoring the bizarre freshness around her even as it’s abnormal chill pierced her thickly covered skin like needles. Surely this was enough, this could tie her over for a few more months couldn’t it? But as she pushed to support herself back onto unsteady feet her gaze was once more drawn to her covered and long dead garden. 

She shifted her feet, watched as the ash moved like snow and revealed a corroded sidewalk with divots and pits eaten through the cement from having been covered by the ash for so long. And she wondered if anything at all could live still under the deadly mush. Then a faint memory surfaced; there was a park not far from her home, one that she used to go to everyday as a child but often covered in trees and bushes lining the sidewalks.

Maybe there could be life there?

She glanced over her shoulder and contemplated returning inside before she felt the compelling tug once more, and before she knew it she was walking away and down the street. 

One glance at life, one simple flower or leaf to prove they all still had a chance and she’d go back to hiding. Frisk was loath to admit it but her determination felt so weak, her soul thinned and almost empty of perseverance. She was only human, she needed a renewal of faith just like the next person. Surely then it would be enough for her to carry on.

Her eyes peered through her slightly smudging goggles as she moved, noting how most of the houses lay dark and abandoned. Out of the many houses on her block she only counted two showing signs of life still, their inner lights dulled from the distance she was to them.

Frisk walked faster. 

She didn’t stop until she crossed the familiar wooden arch, didn’t even slow before spotting the pond she once swam in with her siblings desolate and stagnant, she only stopped once she got to the center; where everyone used to gather.

The park was…wasn’t a park anymore. 

Long gone were the slides and swing sets she’d remembered, in their places were rusted and collapsed piles of metal and half melted plastic, so warped and emitting a stench so foul it was nauseating. She tried not to cry, forced back her whimper and tears in fear of somehow damaging her mask. Even the trees were dead, blackened like soot, as if they’d been set fire to.

The minuscule flame of hope she’d tried to cultivate died violently.

Was this truly all that was left? All that awaited humanity with no salvation in sight?

There wasn’t a sound, more of a feeling, ominous and foreboding from behind her that had her body going stiff and her hands subconsciously clenching into fists. If she focused hard enough she could practically feel what little natural light there was being sucked away as if devoured by a black hole, leaving in its wake nothing but emptiness.

“frisky~ i wondered when you’d finally come out to play.” 

The voice was smooth like velvet, coaxing, and so physical a presence it felt like a finger running down her spine. But in it’s tone she could hear the underlying numbness, feel the apathetic yet smug way it used itself to lure and entice, a predator’s song with no escape.

Mouth dry and eyes wide, she turned and felt time stop around her.

Before her stood a being taller than her but undeniable in who it was as it wore a cloak made of night and a mask matching her own. Only his was elegantly shaped similar to one worn to a masquerade, all black laced swirls and tendrils decorating an equally black satin backdrop. 

Exposed beneath it was a wide and disturbing skeletal grin.

Resignation made her shoulders slump and she could only ask one question, “How?”

A single blue eyelight spawned from the dark sockets that she could make out through the mask, it’s glow brightening as it took her in and seemed to fill with amusement at her question. His grin stretched and his eyelight vanished as his voice came out light and humored. “in order to hide from death you have to actually _look_ like him.” 

She watched as one of his hands lifted, the robe he wore falling away to reveal skeletal phalanges that curled around the beak of his façade. 

Her heart seemed to remember it existed and started to race in fear and…anticipation. 

Frisk’s breath caught as the mask he wore lifted to reveal death’s visage; sockets so dark and deep it was easy to picture them filled with the cries of the hopeless and damned, and a grin sardonic yet comforting in it’s falseness that promised much but denied all, even with the contrasting air of friendliness it exuded.

A poetic and morbid art form in motion.

Her body felt as if it was about to collapse just from his gaze alone. She shouldn’t have been shocked at how she felt or the way he looked, he was death after all, but beneath that was a flush of awe and admiration she couldn’t figure out, teasing just on the fringes of her mind.

“and no one looks like me.” There was heat, warmth in his cold gaze as his sockets narrowed at her almost playfully.

It made her heart skip.

Death lowered his mask back into place. “heh, not alive anyway.” 

They both fell into silence, observing the other in both curiosity and interest. 

Frisk had known he’d been after her, she could feel it every time she so much as entertained the idea of running away from her makeshift prison, had suspected it when she’d felt that tug that always encouraged and prodded the first time at her mother’s bedside.

She’d secretly hoped she’d been wrong.

Frisk licked her lips as she struggled to form the question burning in her mind and refused to cower completely before him as she faced him head on. “What do you want with me?”

He tilted his head but she pushed on. “You took everyone from me, stole them without any hesitation and more than half of the life on this planet, what more could you desire that you don’t already _have_?” 

His single eyelight flared and vanished but it wasn’t in a malicious manner, it felt more natural to see empty sockets on him than an expression of emotion the tentative glow had offered. She wasn’t expecting the chuckle he gave however, a low and ironic one, followed by an absent shrug. “death doesn’t need a reason for what it does, not a purpose or inclination.” 

Frisk felt a jolt of betrayal and anger, but it was gone just as quickly as it had come the moment he took a step towards her.

She couldn’t bring herself to move, couldn’t find the will to escape as he advanced, and felt her stomach flip anxiously as he finally stopped close enough she had to slightly tilt her head up to face the peculiar expression he leveled at her.

“but this personification, this form i have chosen to exist as has craved nothing but you from the time of your birth.”

Her blood suddenly ran cold. 

“death has had an eye on you since before your conception. just as i have for countless others.” 

A single phalange came up to trace the shape of her cheek, just out of reach but close enough the small hairs on her skin rose like static as it passed over her, as if they were rising to try and meet his touch. His smile didn’t falter for a moment as he went on, desire and admiration heavy in his words. 

“but you carry life in your eyes,” His finger slid up and over to the corner of her right eye. “and it’s beauty is the thing i crave more than the comforts offered and promised by oblivion.” 

Frisk could hear nothing but a shrill ringing in her ears, her nerves lighting up in anxiety as she took in how cold his breath and near touch were, how just a hair’s breath from connecting they remained. 

He hadn’t said it out loud but the implication was there.

“You’re going to kill me.” She whispered. 

He hummed as his eyelight spawned back into view and it seemed to be bigger in size as it trapped her in its ethereal blue. Death looked contemplative and let his hand drop as he appraised her. “i’ve killed millions all in the pursuit of luring you from hiding, no, i will offer you a choice.” His brash statement crashed down on her like a hammer to glass. 

Was this plague because of her? This sickness and end all because she’d drawn the eye of the wrong person? 

She felt disgusted and bitter with herself.

Death was unfazed by her clear reaction or chose to ignore it as he went on. “give yourself to me and be with your family again always, not in death but in the void i call home; forever suspended on the precipice of this world and the next with me at your side. there you can communicate with the ones long since passed.” 

His tone came out dry.

“or, choose to stay here, _alone_.” 

Until he came for her anyways, she silently added. Frisk knew either way she was going to end up in his clutches just as all living things eventually did. She couldn’t believe what he was saying, but she already knew her answer. The choice to be with her family again? Maybe not in the way she thought their reunion would be but still together. Or wait for however long he permitted her to continue breathing with longing and the knowledge he would always be waiting, would always be watching until he couldn’t wait any longer.

There was both endless, and no patience at all, in death. 

She and countless others had witnessed it through the centuries. One moment he’d draw out a person’s sickness, the next he’d take them cruelly and without warning. It would be a gamble on which side she’d fall every morning and night. Death worked on his own whims.

That wasn’t a choice.

But she knew what her answer would always be no matter the question.

And…she couldn’t go back she realized. Frisk didn’t want to return to being locked away and being forced to watch silently as the nations fell and collapsed. She also couldn’t live with herself if death’s obsession with her killed any more people.

“Okay.” 

Death’s eyelight lit and pulsed inquisitively. 

The words were so heavy and thick on her tongue it took all her will to clarify. “I’ll go with you.”

His smile grew.

A gale of wind pushed her forward and her hands clutched Death’s robe as it billowed around her like a miasma, one of his hands gripping her mask by the beak and slipping it from her face. Frisk could only stare at him while barely hearing the sound of the one thing that had been protecting her as it fell to the ground. Instantly her nose and mouth flooded with the tainted air and she choked, her lungs burning as if she was drowning, and broke down into a fit of coughing while she clung subconsciously closer to the reaper before her.

He looked absolutely victorious as his hands came up to frame her face. 

In reaction she felt herself go lightheaded, her vision blurring as the strength in her body started to give out under the contact. She could feel the warmth that had been within her rush into her cheeks, brushing and curling into Death’s frozen and harshly textured touch as he absorbed her life greedily and with fervor. Her heart palpitated weakly, missed a beat that stole her rapidly declining breath

“don’t be afraid, i offer you a kindness.” He leaned closer to her, the beak of his mask angling her gaze up to his own as the world was drowned out by his gentle demand. “ _kiss me_.” 

Frisk couldn’t find the mental fortitude to resist and tilted her head as close as she could. His eyelight faded out as he pressed his teeth to her worn and paling lips, the ridges of his smirk bending down to lock them together. 

Frisk’s life flashed behind her eyes, all her precious moments slipping away into nothingness till only this one remained, her body locked in his embrace with her first and last kiss of this mortal coil given and stolen.

How wrong yet so right it felt.

Vaguely she felt the insistent tugging she’d long become accustomed to flare to life and explode into an infernal heat, her hands finding strength somehow to pull him closer to her. A possessive growl of approval vibrated against her in response as an icy thumb stroked her cheek reverently, wiping away a stray tear right before the world bent and faded around them.

As Death whisked her away the ash stopped falling, the last remnants of it drifting down in a gentle sway to join what remained on the ground as the sky gradually began to lighten and crest in soft yellow light.

Ventilator’s started to function normally–

Fevers broke–

Humanity’s hope renewed as life offered her salvation and comfort.


	2. A Date (Mob Sans)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Secret Santa Gift for [Desktopdinosuar](https://desktopdinosaur.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr (2019)  
> Rating: M  
> TW: Mentions of Violence, Crime, Robbery

Today had been a good day for Frisk; she had managed to eat breakfast and make it to work on time without having to wait on a late arrival by the local bus, two things that usually didn’t pan out too well for her. It honestly looked as if the universe was going to be kind enough to cut her some slack this week.

Until the doors to the bank both slammed open.

She jolted along with her fellow tellers at the harsh noise, her heart leaping into her throat as the customer in front of her let out an indignant yelp. Quickly her eyes honed in on the entrance and…

A collective sigh echoed around the bank as two skeletal monsters entered, quickly followed by a blue fish woman and several lackeys.

Annoyance had her rolling her eyes.

It must’ve been the third Wednesday of the month. That was the favored day the New Ebott Mafia liked to come knocking on the banks doors to collect. She supposed it was a good thing they got annually robbed by the same gang over and over again instead of many different ones at unpredictable hours.

Less trauma and shootouts likely to happen that way she guessed. 

It also didn’t go unnoticed that they hadn’t had an attempted robbery by anyone else since the gang had made their first move on them. One of the upsides to this forced arrangement, they apparently made good on the word protection in protection fee.

Still though it irked Frisk.

Mainly because that meant she had to deal with _him_.

“alright ladies and gents, you know the drill; all customers against the wall and on your knees while the lovely ladies of the bank help us make a withdrawal.” The deep baritone had Frisk quickly eyeing the shorter of the two skeletal monsters. Her honey colored eyes inadvertently locking with his two floating orbs of white in his inky black sockets. 

Of course he’d be looking at her that was the first thing he always did when they arrived, his grin always relaxed but widening whenever he saw her. Somehow to Frisk’s chagrin she had become his favorite teller to mess with whenever they came calling.

Sans Serif Skeleton was a renowned mobster among both the monster and human communities. There wasn’t a major news story or local rumor that didn’t somehow include the smartly dressed bag of bones from Lower Ebott all the way to Surface city.

Some good, some bad, but all just as illegal as the last.

To not know who the pinstripe, wide brimmed fedora wearing monster was would easily get you classified as a loon. Just as well to not know his brother would be enough to see you to the proverbial hangman’s noose.

The taller Skeleton was Papyrus; Sans’s younger brother and highly valued partner in crime. There were more than a few stories of idiots who had tried to mess with him when he was alone on a job or behind Sans’s back.

Those people were quickly forgotten; having vanished overnight.

That wasn’t to say Papyrus didn’t pose his own danger when push came to shove. Usually jovial and known for his kindness, what little a gangster could have Frisk supposed, he was typically the preferred of the brothers to deal with when it came to business.

However that was a fact that could change with the flip of a coin.

All anyone had to do was assault someone he cared about, insult his character, and they’d quickly learn why his nickname was knee caps. Frisk had witnessed it once; a customer had tried to dust his best friend Undyne, known right hand of Don Asgore and the blue fish currently handing out money bags, in a fit of fear.

Papyrus had never stopped smiling as he’d brought a femur to the bend of the man’s legs in two deliberate swings, had even casually apologized for the pain between blows with a glowing orange socket. Sans had made a comment at the time, something about the man knee’ding to be more civil when getting robbed.

Frisk hated that she still remembered that joke, still wondered what happened to the guy after they dragged him with them as they’d left.

“I CAN’T HELP BUT FEEL DISAPPOINTED THERE WASN’T A PUN IN THERE SOMEWHERE DEAR BROTHER.” Papyrus’s booming voice echoed easily as he adjusted obviously expensive red Italian leather gloves on his hands. Frisk always found his apparel odd; a stark white suit and black shirt with red shoes and a neatly folded blue handkerchief in his coat pocket. All colors that should clash but blended neatly together on him oddly.

He made his brother look casual in comparison.

“eh, didn’t have much _interest_ in making one.” Sans shrugged with a wink. A few muffled giggles come from the tellers and even some customers to which Papyrus’s tone was bland even as he smirked.

“PLEASE NO ONE ENCOURAGE HIM, THAT JOKE WAS AWFUL.” Sans’s sockets crinkled at the corners.

“still smiling.”

“AND AS ALWAYS I HATE IT. NOW STOP BEING LAZY AND _LOAN_ UNDYNE A HAND WOULD YOU?” The way Papyrus emphasized the blatant pun grudgingly had Frisk smiling. But she quickly remembered who they were and why they were there, humor aside these were still two famously dangerous monsters.

It was enough to make her stubbornly bite the inside of her cheek to force her face into a frown. She silently cursed the way Sans’s perpetual grin lifted in the corner which told her instantly that he’d seen the grin a moment before she could hide it. 

Great, all the time she had spent trying to convince him each visit she didn’t like puns had been wasted.

“eyy, good one bro.” He remarked with his eyes still on Frisk, his tone in itself a jab. Sans’s gaze always had the effect of luring Frisk’s into a perpetual lock if she wasn’t mindful of it. Something about the floating orbs of light drawing her curiously. She forced her eyes away to see Undyne moving down the row of tellers on the far side ignoring the look she could still feel Sans burning into her.

“OF COURSE IT WAS.” Papyrus waved dismissively. He didn’t even notice Sans’s attention was elsewhere, the shorter brother sauntering up to Undyne where he casually plucked an empty money bag from her arms, to her unamused glare, and vanishing. Frisk barely even jumped as he appeared from thin air in front of her window, his grin teasing.

She’d gotten used to his mysterious teleporting.

“well, if it isn’t miss aiuto. fancy seein’ you. come here often?” Frisk looked at the skeleton as he gave a slow wink, his finger hovering up to dangle the empty bag in front of her. He never failed to use the exact same greeting every time. She gave a roll of her eyes as she reached forward and took the bag, her shoulders straightening as her tone came out curt.

“Every day from Sunday to Wednesday Mr. Skeleton.” She shook the bag once before opening her til, Sans’s eyelights watching the gesture before looking back up at her as she continued. “Then again you should know this seeing as you never fail to miss me.”

Her tone dripped derision.

It made him inwardly snicker at how quickly she always bristled at seeing him. Sans honestly thought it was kind of cute.

“how many times do i have to ask you to call me sans? really killing me with the formalities babydoll.” She cocked her eyebrow and paused in what she was doing to shoot him an unimpressed curl of her lip. Her cheeks flushing in a way that made Sans’s soul give a gentle thrum in his ribs. Frisk on the other hand felt a sharp sting of exasperation.

“This is a place of business, which I work at, of course there are formalities. How many times are you going to rob us until you’re satisfied is a better question.” His grin faltered only the slightest inch before immediately realigning, this time in a way that made it look tight and rigid.

“are your reserves running low?” Frisk’s eyes widened at the unexpected question and shift in Sans’s tone from playful to measured, calculating. His manner was still slouched and open but in a fashion it came across deceptive as his eyelights panned her face. She had never felt so exposed under their radiance.

“Uh, I don’t know the answer to that.” Frisk uttered uncomfortably. Sans’s demeanor didn’t change as he asked another question his tone still just as detached and guarded.

“have you or any of your coworkers received a pay deduction?” Her eyebrows furrowed at the odd line of questioning. Why was Sans asking after their income? Frisk didn’t know what to say other than to answer him truthfully.

“No. Not that I’m aware of.” He didn’t speak or move, only remained observing of her as if looking for something in her countenance that either betrayed or solidified her claim. Frisk had never felt her skin go clammy so quickly, her breath picking up in a dreaded anxiety just to be gazed at so intently.

She wondered if everyone who ever crossed Sans had to experience this.

She didn’t want to know what it would be like if he were angry.

Just as time seemed to slip into minutes, into hours under the luminescent light from Sans’s gaze his grin slowly inched wider and lifted in the right corner a tell of his usually playful mood. The tension bled out of the air. Frisk hadn’t been aware she’d been holding her breath until she felt her lungs start to ache reminding her that her need for oxygen was still very much a thing.

Sans looked at her curiously.

“then why bother being upset about it?” How genuine the question sounded made her look down and resume filling the bag. It almost sounded as if he didn’t understand her reasoning. It was wrong what they were doing, didn’t he know that? Why wouldn’t it upset her? They may not have affected the bank and their incomes but someone had to be suffering somewhere with how much money they took each visit.

Sans rubbed the back of his skull as Frisk went suddenly mute. It wasn’t hard for him to tell she hadn’t liked him asking her that. But he had been interested. Not many humans cared one way or the other about these kinds of things so long as it didn’t affect them personally. It only made his growing affection for her pique.

Though he could live without the way Frisk cut off suddenly like that. Like he should know the answer to what he’d asked already. He could read faces, not minds. Besides Sans wasn’t the one in charge of what they did while on the job. That was the Don’s call. He didn’t need to be the target of Frisk’s anger or her disappointment.

The idea of the cute little human being upset made him feel awkward.

“hey.” Frisk looked up reluctantly. He refused to think she only did that because she felt obligated due to who he was. He wanted to believe she wasn’t holding something against him. Sans pushed the unwanted and complicated feelings away in lieu of a smirk.

“so, christmas is coming up. me and a few of the fellas were thinking of hitting the apple, maybe get a few drinks after this to celebrate. since we tend to work that day. what d’ya say?” Frisk scrunched her nose still slightly bitter over his own apathy regarding what he was doing but gave him an inquisitive look.

Sans had often joked and flirted with her, it was one of the reasons she had such an automatic disdain whenever he showed up.

But he had never asked her out before.

Frisk couldn’t believe the moxie he had to do so.

She knew her answer right away, knew she did not want to get involved in the gang life which is what dating a mobster led to, not only that, she barely knew him. Outside of what she had heard and seen in the brief glimpses from the last few months she’d begun working at the bank, there was hardly anything positive to be said about the skeleton.

Even if he could wittily crack a joke like nobody’s business, and had more charisma than anyone could shake a stick at.

“Broke, sorry.” Sans hummed, his smile not giving the slightest inch.

“funny that you expect you to be the one paying when i’m the one inviting you out.” Frisk frowned at how her face heated up and that Sans easily caught it, one of his sockets sliding shut humorously. “nice to know you do have a sense of humor after all.”

She wasn’t even thinking as she retorted, “I don’t go out with greaseballs.”

Sans’s sockets went wide as she continued to shovel the cash from her drawer into the bag. That was the last thing he had expected to hear from her. Frisk had always been curt and short with him but never blatantly rude before. His sockets ovaled as pride surged through him and he let out a snicker. So he was able to irritate her enough to bring out another side to her.

Sans loved it.

“did you just insult me?” Frisk didn’t answer, which was fine. He could see the guilt that had already begun to set in mixing with her rebellious urge to remain silent that he’d provoked. The fact she’d said something like that to him despite his status made him giddy.

Could he just tie her up in a bow and take her home? Please?

“heh, cute. my bro has said worse, not telling a _fibble_ but he’s said I can be a real gasser, truly a man of four outs.” Frisk literally froze in what she was doing to stare at him. He’d just insulted himself three times and one of them he’d used as a pun. She secretly bit the tip of her tongue to stop from laughing.

She gave a weak smile, a heedful one that made Sans think that it might grow legs and run.

“Sans Serif Skeleton, you are a rascal is what you are.” His magic almost flared across his skull as his shoulders shook and he let out a chuckle, right before his eyelights lit up in a manner Frisk wasn’t prepared for. His tone was smooth and deep as he leaned further over her counter, both his arms crossing as his skull flexed similar to a raised conspiratory eyebrow.

“c’mon, come out with me. let me show ya how _frisky_ i can be.” Her humor vanished even as her cheeks lit up. How many times had she blushed now? Frisk was worried she was going to faint if the blood kept rushing into her face. The devilish expression aimed at her still wasn’t helping.

“Using my name like that wasn’t funny the first few times you did it and it’s not now.” He caught the deflection and wondered if he’d crossed a line. Before another equally disturbing thought made his magic in his bones agitate. His voice lowered and his tone was reassuring as he casually leaned his skull into a bony palm.

“y’know. if you want to say no you can right?” She was, again, thrown for a loop. Frisk blinked. One of the biggest gangsters in Ebott was essentially giving her an out. She knew from countless testimonials and articles in the daily that that wasn’t typical of anyone tied to the illegal life.

If you tried to flat out refuse a mobster usually that meant someone you cared about would end up dead, or worse yet _something Frisk didn’t like to think about_ would happen to the girl who’d dared not give her time to a made man. She stared at him but there was no hidden motive in his sockets, no impatience or signs of him lulling her into a false sense of security that she could see.

Sans only continued to smile.

A gentleman was the last thing she would’ve labeled him before now.

“I…don’t think it’d be smart of me to say yes…Sans.” The monster’s shoulders dipped in defeat even as his eyelights brightened at the sound of his name coming from her pale lips. He would take what he could get. And a first name biases was good enough for now.

“maybe some other time then.” She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been till she felt her back relax under the flow of his words.

Sans didn’t miss it either, he could see the way her honey colored eyes lit up in gratitude. He didn’t like that being the emotion he saw. Sans had always thought he’d been kosher with her. He chose not to make a comment instead electing to hold his hand out expectantly.

Frisk tied the now full bag and handed it to him, her heart giving a thunderous lurch as his phalanges just barely brushed the tips of her fingers. A quick and gentle spark raced between them unexpectedly causing Sans’s soul to pulse in his bones.

Their gazes met and she knew from the way his expression sharpened that she hadn’t been the only one to feel something from the contact.

Frisk flustered, simply nodded to his previous statement not taking in the new stupefied way Sans looked at her. She would’ve noticed the beguilement in his eyelights if she had.

“HEY! If you’re done FLIRTING we gotta go!” Undyne’s gruff voice shouted from across the bank. It’s sudden harshness jarred the both of them, drawing a scowl from Sans as he turned to look at his accomplice only to be met with a shameless flash of her teeth. He rolled his eyelights as he tossed the bag he held over his shoulder and looked back at Frisk, giving a wink that made her knees shockingly weak.

“later doll, be seeing you soon.” She didn’t respond; too busy trying to comprehend what had just happened, as they all filed towards the door with their cash in hand. Her eyes lingered on the shorter skeleton as he walked up to Papyrus. Unable to understand the look passing between them as the taller monster smirked.

“Did You Enjoy Seeing Your Human Brother?” His tone purposefully soft in a way that only Sans could hear. He closed both his sockets and gave a shrug. Sans had grown used to Papyrus calling Frisk his human. Not that he minded it in the least.

“don’t i always?” Papyrus gave a huff of brotherly affection before turning on his heel to follow after an eye rolling Undyne. The fish monster making quick work to ensure all expected bags were accounted for before jumping into the driver’s side of their particular car.

“OKAY LET’S BEAT IT!”

Sans paused in the doorway and Frisk’s breath caught as her still racing heart, which she had been fighting to calm, only picked back up into an excited rhythm.

The sunlight had hit him. And Frisk could see a sheen coat of pearlescent light and muted colors glimmering off his bones. She glanced around but no one seemed to be looking like she was. Could no one else see it?

Sans’s gaze flickered over to Frisk with a side glance and he watched her eyes narrow shyly which made his magic rush and swell in response. He could see awe and veiled attraction in her golden depths.

A thin magical aura covered him, billowed his clothing as his eyelight expanded and morphed into a thick ring of fiery sapphire.

Frisk’s eyes went wide and her lungs ceased to function. It was mesmerizing; its glow holding her in place as its ethereal light bathed her in a chill that felt as refreshing as a new winter morning. She swallowed unable to look away from the sight but just as quickly as it had appeared it was gone, the familiar white of Sans’s regard in its place.

She was utterly speechless and Sans gave her a self-satisfied grin as the doors shut behind him.

His human indeed.

~~

Following the routine robbery Frisk found it incredibly difficult to focus on work and her daily life in general. When she’d wander her apartment in a daze somewhere between waking and sleeping she’d jump having imagined a certain laughter following her through the room. Even sleep itself was difficult, plagued with blue hues and witty snark that…devolved into other things.

It was one restless morning that her eyes drifted over to her calendar, her mug of coffee pressed firmly to her lips as she ran a hand through her messy bedhead. A hot flash of irritation hit her as she took note of the date. She frowned at herself. Where had that come from? There weren’t any plans she had that she could remember, no previous engagements or doctor’s visits. So why was she antsy?

Then she realized as she scrutinized the calendar that it was two days before Christmas…and another three weeks before the skeleton brothers next visit. Frisk’s heart skipped. 

And she paled, literally gaped at herself. A flash of his blue eyelight in her mind made her let out a small gasp. Did she…have a crush now? 

Frisk wondered when her viewpoint on Sans had suddenly been flipped on its head. The thought made Frisk still and glare into her cup as if the bitter liquid had just insulted her. This wasn’t okay, she did not consent to her heart trying to urge her into dating a gangster. Let alone Sans of all people both human and monster alike.

Maybe she was simply repressed. It had been a while since she’d last gone anywhere other than work and that would explain why her emotions were trying to go in such a dangerous direction. He was something that broke from a bland routine, offered a potential new experience for her. 

She sipped her coffee, ignoring how hot her cheeks felt.

_be seeing you soon_

Frisk shuddered.

Okay yep, she was going out.

Tonight. 

~~

“It’s so nice to see you!” Mettaton gushed as he wrapped an arm around Frisk’s shoulders. She chuckled as he led her from the entrance and pushed them through the line of patrons towards the back of his club. His eyes lit up as he glanced down at her.

“Ever since you gave me that recommendation to Mr. Roman business has just been booming darling!” She gave a shrug as best as she could being pushed and simultaneously held against his metal frame.

“It was no big deal Mettaton, he was looking to lease and you had the money. I’m sure he would’ve signed a contract with you anyhow.” He gave her a look.

“You and I both know that was unlikely dear. Surface city is predominately human territory; no one was open to the idea of a monster positive establishment until you reassured Mr. Roman I didn’t have a real taste for the flavor of human souls.” Mettaton bit sarcastically. Frisk tried not to cringe at the reminder of the man’s fearful racism.

Surface city was full of racist anti-monster activists who detested the other species just simply for how different they were as well as hushed uncomfortable ones more terrified of the magic that accompanied them. It was one of the reasons Frisk had moved to Lower Ebott, monster territory as Surface residents called it. Even if she and the humans who had chosen to live there were considered shunned; she found less societal stress and standards to hinder her life than she had back among her own kind.

Though she did have to admire monsters like Mettaton who held out hope for the human’s acceptance one day, his drive to actively try integrating the two species both a point of controversy and interest from both sides.

“I’m happy I could help Mettaton.” He gave her a smile bright enough to rival the sun.

“As am I. You’re my favorite human you know! You never have to worry about spending a dime at any of my establishments! Seriously darling, you ever need anything at all you give me a call.” Frisk didn’t know what to say to that and could only mumble a quiet thanks as they both finally cleared the crowd. She only now noticed that she was being led to a roped off hallway, her eyes landing on the VIP sign as they passed.

“VIP?” Her robotic friend chuckled.

“You deserve nothing less darling.” She furrowed her brow in confusion but allowed him to guide her to a set of black velvet doors, the music from the main lobby of the club muted as they stopped in front of them. Did he have a second club inside of his first one? Frisk had never been to the VIP section of anything before and so felt slightly uncomfortable as Mettaton griped the brass handles of the entrance.

It wasn’t what Frisk expected.

It was nice, and rather stylized. Nothing like the flamboyant and flashy design Mettaton had used for the main club they had come from. There were round tables neatly arranged a decent distance from a large stage, with an equally large floor space for dancing off to the side. Even fancier than that however were booths lining the back and side walls with red velvet privacy curtains both drawn and opened. Also with round tables made of oak where Frisk could see humans and monsters alike mingling, some even flirting and getting a bit handsy.

This wasn’t how Frisk was expecting her night to go.

“You enjoy yourself now darling, remember anything you want at all is free of charge.” She looked at Mettaton with uncertainty. Frisk felt out of place. The atmosphere was mellow which she could appreciate but the feeling of the lounge came off as lavish, which wasn’t Frisk’s kind of scene at all.

“You’re leaving?” He raised a metal brow before offering an apologetic smile.

“Why yes I have a club to manage. If you wish we can certainly hang out another time but tonight I do have some business to attend to.” Frisk immediately felt guilty. Mettaton had just offered and given her free access to anything in the club he could and here she was acting like a lost puppy. She let out a breath and smiled as she nodded at her mechanical friend.

Mettaton took a moment to study her before patting her shoulder in farewell leaving her standing alone to stare blankly at the people and tables. Her thoughts trying to piece together what to do next. Unlike the public part of the club which had been lively with music and dancing this place was more active with conversation and laughter. It was the type of setting Frisk felt where you had to know people to fully enjoy it.

She felt a chill climb up her back.

Frisk turned and her eyes locked onto a darkened booth towards the corner, a ring of dark blue peering at her from its shadowed depths. Her blood began to throb in her veins. There was no way. What were the chances? Her thoughts were answered as the ring moved and advanced, vanishing and shifting to white as Sans emerged from the darkness into the lounges lighting.

They both stood staring at each other a moment, truly registering the others presence before Sans smiled lazily and shoved his hands into his trench coat pockets, his fedora tilting in amusement with his skull. Frisk was too stunned to react as he waltzed over to her, his grin gradually growing as he advanced.

Her vision tunneled until the skeleton was the only thing she noticed, the chatter around her going out.

When he stopped in front of her Frisk swore she could feel the smug happiness radiating off of him. And then he spoke, breaking whatever it was that had come over her.

“heh, didn’t think i’d run into an attractive human here.” She frowned.

“I’m sure you’ve run into more than a few attractive humans here.” Sans was already enjoying himself.

“nah, i got a thing for stars, the sun being a major one. and you’re the only human i know of that carries it in their eyes.” If she had been drinking anything she would’ve choked. That had to be the cheesiest line he’d fed her in all the months he’d been antagonizing her at work.

Frisk refused to let him see just how much it had worked to fluster her.

Sans saw it regardless.

“What are you doing here anyway? Didn’t expect such a high profile mobster to be anywhere near Surface City.” There were other smaller cities he could’ve gone to. Surface city with their known disgust about monsters had a high profile police force that were more than willing to hunt his kind down with a fervor. Sans shrugged.

“i know the owner, plus i have a tab here.” Frisk smiled.

“Guess the coincidences just keep coming.” His sockets widened. He was the only one he knew of that Grillby willingly let keep a tab so it was simple to conclude that Frisk had meant the first part of his statement.

“so you know mettaton huh?” Frisk nodded.

“Yeah, the guy he leases from knew my father when he was…well he trusted me enough to take my recommendation of signing Mettaton on.” Sans hummed, noting the way her voice had cut off. He reasonably concluded the word she hadn’t said was alive.

…He could relate.

Sans’s grin lengthened.

“welp, since you’re here how about those drinks i offered?” Frisk’s eyes widened, her tone was drawn out and hesitant.

“Drinks…as in alcohol?” Sans nodded.

Wonderful, Mettaton was serving illegal booze. Frisk could only frown at the situation. She supposed it was a good thing her reputation was already tarnished due to where she lived. Talk about a scandal if he was ever raided. Being the first major monster business in surface city a lot was hanging on his shoulders politically. It amazed her how casual Mettaton could be about the whole thing.

Her eyes landed on Sans warily, her stomach giving a flip, before letting out a sigh. She was already here she might as well, what could it hurt? Besides knowing that there was contraband here only served to reassure her that Mettaton wasn’t likely to let cops nor any typical humans or monsters back here that could cause trouble. Aside from Sans apparently.

The way his eyelights brightened told her he could see her answer before she even said it.

Something told her, her life was about to change.

“Sure.” Sans stepped closer to her and Frisk couldn’t bring herself to put distance between them. His voice was a thick husk that made a warmth coil in her chest and turned her skin to gooseflesh.

“merry christmas to me.”


	3. Not The Babybones (Shayromi's Frans Family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Addams Family [Parody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1OnJt98B6Oc&ab_channel=ChrisLussier%2FDjinsin)  
> I was inspired to make when I saw Shayromi's [art](https://shayromi.tumblr.com/post/188196395963/its-spooky-month-frans-family-inspired-by)!  
> She even made a [comic](https://shayromi.tumblr.com/post/188633522028/doodles-for-this-short-story-by-themsource-its) too <3  
> Rating: T

It was a typical day in the skeleton house; Sans and Frisk both lazing together on the couch with their gathered friends and family watching the latest episode of an anime Alphys had discovered, their son Arno tucked into Undyne’s lap as they both cheered and clapped together at the way the protagonist summoned her sword.

It was all in anticipation for their daughter Elys’s arrival from school, the plan to go to the water park that afternoon in celebration of her actually having studied for her math test last week. The pair of parents didn’t expect when she came home to have a very interesting story to tell. 

They were both surprised to hear it was about one of the parent teacher members; Linda. 

Apparently it was irresponsible of them to send their daughter to school with bottled ketchup in her lunch, the condiment far too sweet and full of unhealthy calories that it called their parenting methods into question. 

Not only did she not stop there but Linda had gone on to say it was insulting they were teaching Elys that eating ketchup by itself was acceptable and that they were also bringing harm to the other children by permitting their daughter to indulge in the habit around them. 

Permitting her to be a bad influence.

Frisk could only frown as she embraced her frustrated little girl while Sans’s sockets had gone black as midnight as he silently seethed. Linda had it out for them ever since the PTA luncheon two months ago when he’d mentioned how dry her lemon squares were. She’d asked for an honest opinion and Sans had given her just that. 

She had no right to take out her silent grudge on his little fart princess.

“Well what are ya gonna do about it just stand there and take it?” Undyne asked at the pairs prolonged silence. Papyrus was quick to respond, his usually jovial smile a tight frown at hearing how harshly his niece had been treated.

“CERTAINLY NOT, I THINK WE SHOULD SEND LINDA AN INSULTING LETTER!” Frisk raised a brow as she looked up from Elys, Sans’s eyelights coming back as he looked at his sibling with a smile. It lightened his mood to see what Papyrus’s idea of a rebuttal was.

“I don’t think we should put our names on it.” Gaster supplied as he pressed the tips of his phalanges together in thought.

“He could sign it a f-friend.” Alphys piped up.

“An insulting letter signed a friend, that would be _humerious_.” Sans snickered. Papyrus shot him a halfhearted glare at the pun but let it drop, the taller monster was far too upset at the rude human they were discussing to have any heat behind it. 

“I think we should turn the other cheek.” Frisk responded as she sent Elys and Arno off to get packed for their trip. She certainly didn’t need them getting any ideas from what everyone was saying. It was bad enough she was certain her daughter already had a plan for getting back at the snarky woman. Elys was too much like her father and Uncle when it came to wit.

“Nooo! When people insulted me I always used to turn the other cheek!” Undyne droned with a pout. That was so unexpected to hear from the rambunctious and passionate fish monster that Frisk simply had to ask about it.

“And?”

“I ran out of cheeks.” Undyne said with an obvious tone as she shrugged. Now that was not surprising to hear coming from the redhead. Sans sighed and smiled lazily; while he was enjoying the back and forth between everyone their idea wasn’t quite hitting the mark for him. Normally he would’ve just let such a thing work itself out. But this was his babybones.

“welp there’s only one way to settle this.” The sound of Sans’s blaster materializing beside him made everyone stop what they’d been saying to stare at him in surprise. His smile still lazy even as his tone dropped. “linda’s gonna have a bad time.”

“Sans! Please not that!” Frisk pleaded with a sweat drop running down the side of her face. Even more surprising than the unexpected blaster’s presence was Papyrus who turned to look at her with a passionate cry.

“BUT FRISK THE FAMILY HONOR!” Oh dear, Papyrus was supporting Sans antics. Frisk felt her skin prickle as her nerves rose. The world had just been turned upside down on its head. 

“He’s right Frisk the family honor!” Gaster exclaimed in agreement with Papyrus before he shot a smirk at his oldest son. “You’ll have to challenge Linda to a duel.”

“nah, i’d rather shoot her in the back.” Sans waved dismissively as his blaster hovered over to sniff at the flower bouquet on their coffee table.

“Blasting people isn’t the solution to this and that is not honorable.” Frisk remarked as she crossed her arms at Gaster.

“but it’s effective, and safe.” Sans rebutted as he rocked on his heels.

“SANS, SAFE? WHILE I RESPECT YOUR WISE DECISION TO FOLLOW SAFETY PRECAUTIONS, A SKELETON DOES NOT KNOW THE MEANING OF THE WORD FEAR!” Papyrus cried incredulously. Sans didn’t consider himself as cool as his brother was so he was completely shameless and unfazed as he replied.

“i do, i’ll shoot’er in the back.”

“Remember the Serif name!” Papyrus shouted as he stomped his foot. Gaster waggled his finger as he shook his head, his tone only the slightest bit stern.

“It’ll have to be a duel.” Frisk didn’t like how out of hand this was getting.

“with bones?” Sans asked curiously. A duel usually meant swords and he was too lazy for that, really a good shot of magical energy should be more than enough to deal with the situation. He honestly didn’t see why his family was trying to persuade him from it.

“WITH VICTORY GOING TO THE CUNNINGEST, THE SWIFTEST, THE DEADLIEST!” Papyrus exclaimed, his eyes sparkling like they tended to do when he was excited about something as Gaster nodded his head in agreement. 

Even Undyne and Alphys were giving signs of approval with a shout and half stuttered gush on how anime the concept was. Sans paused to look at Papyrus. Those were verbs that he felt didn’t fit him in the slightest.

“…yep shooting her in the back.” Sans drawled slowly.

Frisk at this point had already given up and simply sat on the couch observing as she drank some orange juice and stroked the blaster’s head. An idea for how to sabotage the whole situation trying to piece itself together in her mind if Sans actually decided to go through with his plan.

“Wait how about spears!” Undyne half asked half shouted as she snapped her fingers. Spears? Sans could get behind that; for one it was magic so he wouldn’t need his hands to use it nor the energy a physical sword would require. And two Undyne’s spears were just as fast as his blasters so it wouldn’t take long to deal with Linda. Get in, launch spear, get out.

“well that’s different than–wait…does she get on too?” Sans asked suspiciously as the thought occurred to him his family wouldn’t give him such an obvious advantage so easily.

“Naturally!” Gaster smiled as he answered him. To Sans’s dismay everyone nodded along to his father’s declaration. He should’ve known there was a catch. Heh he could still work with that, after all he wouldn’t need to use effort like Linda would in welding the spear. Sans might simply have less aim coordination as they’d be Undyne’s constructs and not his bones but if he missed he could just ask–

The whole honor thing resounded in his head and made him squint his sockets at the former guard captain.

“…how many?” Sans asked wearily.

“One each.” Undyne folded her arms with finality. Sans sockets went black as his eyelights went out. Were they all serious right now? Just one? Nope his solution was better.

“…in the back.” He deadpanned as he blinked his eyelights back into existence. Sans turned to call his blaster over. They still had time before needing to head out and he wasn’t as angry as he’d initially been, maybe he’d just intimidate the woman not to speak to his kid like that again, he could simply shortcut on over to the school real quick and–

Frisk and his blaster were missing.

…He just couldn’t catch a break.


	4. A Moment Of Time (Fated AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Secret Santa gift for [Cattsita](https://catsitta.tumblr.com/) on tumblr (2020)  
> Inspired by her [AU](https://fated-au.tumblr.com/) based on the Hades and Persephone myth ^^  
> Rating: T

Lord Death’s realm; usually so quiet and haunting, was unusually loud with the cries of celebration and joy. Golden light bathed the immense hall, the fires and torches giving such a grand view of the heavily decorated scaffoldings and food laden tables casting a supernatural warmth supplied by none other than Lord Fyre, for the evening’s festivities.

Rarely was there cause for such lavish displays of black marbled fountains overflowing with fine wine, even rarer a reason for heavenly grown ambrosia to grace such a place as the Underworld with it’s desolate landscape and often gloomy atmosphere, but this was a day rare in itself.

Today marked the winter solstice; the time of year that many a mortal and god alike abandoned their divisions and classes that usually separated them from others of lower status as a show of civility and gratitude for one another. And Death the youngest favored the holiday, in fact he was its greatest fan and celebrated it every year. Which was a surprise to the Goddess Spring given her _dear husband’s_ solitary nature and not so subtle irritation at large gatherings.

Let it be said that Sans denied Papyrus very little, and let him want for nothing.

An admirable trait in her _spouse_.

“My lady are you not enjoying the wine?” Frisk blinked free of her thoughts and spared a glance at her goblet, sitting wholly untouched and turning bitter the longer she ignored it and allowed it to spoil. 

A longstanding tradition on this day was that women alone were allowed to drink of the spirits and indulge in the fresh aged fruits of the last harvest, a tradition she always enjoyed, but now served as nothing but a reminder of lost youth and unwanted vows.

Frisk was gradually coming to accept the chains that tied her to her husband, and deeply appreciated the way in which he treated her as not only an adult, but as a partner, an equal. However it did little to ease the sadness she felt at times such as these, reminding her of the choices she’d unwittingly made that hadn’t truly been choices at all.

This year she wouldn’t be dancing among the snow of the surface, nor would she sit gossiping with her mother and her wood nymphs about plans for future growth and vegetation. Where once she used to greet the time of year with enthusiasm and eagerness, now sat nothing but a rock hard pit in her stomach that even Ambrosia couldn’t fill.

She felt out of place, and just a little bit lonely.

“Forgive me, but my stomach is not quite right tonight.” She forced a smile, small and fragile, but still genuine as she looked to her handmaiden. “Tonight I am not your lady, we are as equals, did you forget?” 

Daisy smiled as she took the opportunity and reached down to take the neglected drink, boldly taking a sip from it before offering Frisk a warm smile. “No matter the time or day you will always be my lady. As long as you’ll have me.”

Frisk chuckled before looking out to the crowd, her golden eyes skimming the dancers supplied by Mother Night as she caught the sight of Lord Fyre in hushed whispers with a fair skinned and golden haired Underworld denizen. 

Vaguely she tried to recall all the fallen heroes she’d been told would be allowed to attend but no name came to mind, maybe they were a member of the Asphodel Meadows?

“I take it Iris and Hyacinth are enjoying themselves?” She asked absently just as her eyes spotted her husband standing beside the hearth speaking with his brother. 

As if he could feel her gaze like a touch he subtly shifted his fathomless sockets to meet her.

Quickly Frisk averted her eyes with a grimace, and not so quiet skip of her heart. How he could draw such a reaction from her when she could just barely tolerate his presence she’d never know, and even as she watched Daisy blush, her flames tinting a slight shade darker, she swore she could still feel him watching her. 

Sans’s gaze always unsettled her, just as much as it drew her in like a vortex.

“Iris is currently in the kitchens, and Hyacinth, is showing Lord Cadmus around.” The way Daisy said his name was enough to make Frisk stare at her in shock. Cadmus, the hero of letters, how fitting given Hyacinth’s nature. Though it was still the last thing she’d expected of the elemental.

“I see…” Even her handmaidens dreamed of love she supposed, something she’d never really given much thought to. Was that one of the reasons behind their constant push for her to get close to Sans? “Well I hope she enjoys herself.”

Daisy offered a timid grin. “Are you sure it’s only your stomach that ails you tonight?”

Frisk dismissed her worry with a shake of her head. “Don’t worry Daisy, go have fun, you fuss over me enough every day as is.” 

Reluctantly the young fiery girl nodded and did as Frisk suggested, but not without offering a backward glance that the goddess waved off with a teasing smile. Slowly she let her hand drop and went back to looking out over the crowd. 

She felt like such a stick in the mud, truly not an attitude befitting of a queen.

Gracefully as she could, and still doing her best to ignore San’s continuously lingering stare, she skirted the side of the hall and slipped away behind a gathered group of souls. She didn’t stop holding her breath or head high until she’d safely made it back to her room, where she finally let her shoulders sag and sighed from sudden exhaustion.

Papyrus might not be too pleased at her absence, but it was better than sitting in place all night frowning and pouting like a child. Frisk had gone to such lengths to show her mother and the other gods she was worthy of her title, she refused to spoil it all in one evening. 

More than halfway across her room she froze, her eyes going wide in disbelief, as they caught on a small object resting in the center of her bed.

Had someone been in her room?

Frisk’s heart anxiously fluttered in her chest as she debated on returning to the party or taking another step further into her room. Never before now had she noticed just how thick the curtains were that adorned her windows, or just how dark the corners of her chamber were where the miniscule candle light didn’t reach. 

Cautiously she inched forward, the ichor in her veins pounding like a drum as she shakily reached for it with all the control of a quivering branch. 

It fit perfectly in her hand, its texture like that of smooth glass with a coolness that sent a chill up to her shoulder. He guard dropped as she slowly raised it to eye level and turned it this way and that. It looked like a flat and rounded piece of polished obsidian, with golden leaf decorating it’s edges in swirling floral designs. 

A mirror, designed to be easily concealed and for discrete use.

She frowned.

Honestly Frisk wasn’t one to fret over her appearance, she never had been, always preferring wild and tangled hair with robes slightly worn at the fringes from hours spent in the dirt or walking. The only ones that showed any care to her looks were her caretakers and, on a less comfortable note, her husband.

She turned it twice over, as if the name of the person who had left this would magically appear if she simply kept looking, and nearly dropped it as the surface brightened, turning white hot and blinding. Just as quickly as it happened it dimmed, and in its place was an image, crystal clear and moving. 

Frisk gasped as she recognized one of the flower fields in which she used to play, now blanketed in freshly fallen snow, the picture of her mother standing silent and stoic as she looked out over the winter landscape. 

_It was a looking glass!_ A magical item so very rare that only three gods she knew of had one, and none of them this small or intricately decorated. Whoever this was from had obviously put a lot of considerable effort into having it made.

“does my lady wife like her gift?”

She hadn’t expected his presence with the celebrations currently going on, but honestly she should have. Sans always had the habit of suddenly appearing from around corners or showing up spontaneously. 

Frisk spun on her heel, her hand quickly darting up to brush away the tears beading in her eyes as they widened at seeing her husband standing just within the dark shadows of the doorway.

At this point in their relationship she’d grown accustomed to his comings and goings. The only thing she never understood behind the actions was if it was done simply because he liked to use his name and title as the lord of death to unnerve others and to demonstrate the power he held, or if it was merely a fleeting moment of whimsy for a cheap thrill. 

One thing that always irritated her to no end though, was that he enjoyed targeting her the most. Such as now; with an embarrassed flush on her cheeks and a jolt of shame running down her spine as she struggled to hide the very emotion she so blatantly wore. Gifts between spouses was a tradition, but she hadn’t given any thought to it. She didn’t think for a moment her lord husband would be partial to the tradition.

Frisk should have known better given how their whole relationship had even started.

“I…am afraid I did not prepare anything for you in turn.” 

His gaze, always so penetrating and watchful, dropped from her face to the looking glass she clutched to her chest, not missing the subtle way her knuckles whitened as she subconsciously tightened her hold on it.

As if he’d try to steal it away from her.

Sans’s smile widened. “what more gift could a husband want than the company of his wife?”

Her face stung as it turned red, and her voice came out uncertain, higher in pitch, as she stared at him. “I trust you mean platonically?”

“I have the desires of any man, for his bride, and while i wouldn’t turn away such an offer…” 

She tensed as his sockets did a slow, calculated roll of her form before flickering back up to her face, the gesture causing her heart to skip for the second time that night. “in this instance my intentions are entirely innocent.” He chuckled.

Frisk watched as he held a hand out in offer, his phalanges slightly curling as if beckoning her to him with a still ever present grin. It would be so easy, in another time and place, for Frisk to have believed the innocence behind his smile. But he always wore it, when amused, irritated, and when being cruel as Death often had to be.

It made it so hard to understand him.

Casually she slipped the now darkened looking glass within her robes and tried her best to keep her expression unreadable as she placed her hand in his, the icy touch of his bones draining the warmth from her, but never able to steal it all completely.

The edges of his smile seemed to soften as he glanced down.

It did something to her to see that. He acted so touch starved, so easily awed every time they had the briefest of contact. They both stood there in silence, his thumb slowly running circles into the back of her hand the longer he held it. She sucked in a breath at the shiver it sent up her spine but dared an uncertain look up at him.

“Are we not going somewhere?”

His subtle movement stopped but he didn’t look away from where they stayed joined.

“is there somewhere you wish to go?”

She didn’t respond, and he took that as an answer. He gave one more slow, deliberate, stroke of his thumb before finally releasing her. If Frisk didn’t know better she’d have thought she’d heard a small sigh from him.

And then she finally noticed the faint blush on his cheeks.

“…Sans?”

“hmm?”

“Have you been drinking?” 

He looked her in the eye as his grin hitched higher. “whatever gave that impression?”

Frisk narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, the faint blush darkening as she stared him down and cultivated one on her own cheeks. She hadn’t noticed just how cute his magic could sometimes manifest itself, just how it left a vague ethereal glow that bathed the inside of his normally obscure hood.

“Sans…only women are supposed to drink today.”

His sockets lidded. “from what i could see earlier in the night, you weren’t in the mood, and it would’ve been rude to waste wine provided by asgore himself.” 

She knew he was using a poor excuse, but it was enough of one it lit a flicker of embarrassment in her. Frisk stubbornly focused on one of the gold medallions that held up his cloak to avoid eye contact.

“You just wanted to drink.”

“can you fault me? it was my favorite after all.” She glared at his cheeky smirk. “pomegranate.” 

“…”

“…”

“…If only divorce was an option.”

Sans’s sockets widened and then he let out such a deep, bass heavy, laugh Frisk openly gawked at him. It took a moment for him to compose himself but once he had his voice was filled with mirth.

“sadly it isn’t. i would only welcome the challenge to make you mine yet again, if i could.”

She couldn’t think of a response to that, not one that wasn’t insulting at least, and really she didn’t feel like trying to argue with the thick skulled god before her, it would be pointless, Sans never backed down when it came to a play on words.

Silence stretched before he spoke again. 

“i should be getting back to the celebration, gillby wanted to talk to me regarding a trade of some sort.”

Frisk suddenly felt a pang that made her grimace. She hadn’t realized she’d actually been enjoying the company. Maybe it was because they rarely spoke, or maybe she was just that emotionally vulnerable tonight, but her words were hesitant and honest. 

“I understand…I enjoyed this. The casual conversation.”

Her husband tilted his head.

“i should be thanking _you_ , this was just the break i needed from the crowd.”

Despite herself she chuckled. “Of course, why would I ever assume you asked for my company purely for it alone?” 

He went silent, the brim of his hood covering his sockets as his tone came out blunt. “if this wasn’t what i desired i wouldn’t have asked for this when you offered me a gift in turn.” 

How did he keep doing that? Slipping behind her walls so easily with honeyed words after repeatedly testing their strength with his indifference and often selfish actions? He barely ever tried but it was always enough to make her question her stance on him.

“You’d better hurry back, I don’t think Grillby will be sober enough to remember his reasons if you don’t.” She whispered.

Sans gave a small bow, his hand swiftly cupping hers and bringing it to his teeth for a kiss. When he stood her hand was still lifted, frozen in place by confusion and surprise.

“i bid thee goodnight, happy solstice _my queen_.”

He vanished.

Frisk opened and closed her mouth dumbly, an almost plea for him to stay forever trapped on the tip of her tongue. She stared at where her husband had stood and slowly pulled out her looking glass.

Her first Solstice in the Underworld hadn’t gone well as it could’ve been, but it was still _memorable_.


	5. Love Isn't Enough (Classic Sans)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> TW: Mentions of Alcoholism, Drinking  
> Requested by an Anon on Tumblr for Angst <3  
> Felt like doing it and using classic Age Gap trope for the pairing ^^

Sans was trying to drink his sorrows away for the tenth time that day...

It didn’t matter that he’d asked for the worst drink on the menu, and it didn’t bother him how much the foul stuff seared his magical throat as it went down, what counted was how numb it as making him feel.

Human booze had nothing on magical condiments but it was doing something at least, and that was the way it slightly tilted the room and blurred his eyelights into a heavy haze that tinted his vision.

This was only his first drink, god he was such a lightweight.

How did humans drink this stuff?

Grillby eyed him from the end of the bar; his fiery gaze both worried and, to Sans’ quickly turning drunken mind, judgmental. He pointedly took a long and drawn out sip without break eye contact and earned a pitiful shake of the elemental’s head in return.

He had to admit that Grillby was entitled to acting the way he was, after all he had been sober from the moment they’d breached the surface, it was only in the last four years that Sans had taken to his old addiction like white on rice.

But could anyone truly blame him if they knew the truth?

Frisk had become...stubborn as she’d matured.

What had once been friendly pointless jokes had quickly turned flirtatious and almost deviant in nature whenever she instigated an improvised comedy schtick with him now. Not only that but she’d begun following him around a lot more now that she could legally enter certain bars and establishments. 

It was annoying and deeply frustrating.

Everytime he was around her now it was difficult to keep his skull on straight. Sans could tell she had a crush, she’d had one ever since her twenty-first birthday, and he’d been working so hard to ignore it. 

And sadly the truth was…

Sans really, _really_ , didn’t want to.

Just this morning she’d made him all too keenly aware of their shifted dynamic when she’d wandered out of Papyrus’ room; loose, baggy, clothes all askew completely exposing her left shoulder and the rise of her hip, and hair so tangled from sleep to the point she had what Alphy’s affectionately called an ‘ahoge’. 

A single lock of hair that had always made her too precious for words.

It was then Sans knew she was way too old to be sleeping with his brother, thirteen years had turned her from a sleepy little girl he wanted to make a photo album of, to a young woman that now looked stunning and _tempting_.

If it wasn’t for the fact his brother only had eyes for Mettaton Sans would’ve been jealous. Just the way she had rubbed the sleep from her eyes with the base of her palm while she’d let out a tiny yawn had made him fluster.

Right before he’d thrown his jacket at her and commented about finding sleepwear that actually fit. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way she’d stuck her tongue out and had playfully winked at him all day.

Sans had almost made a dirty joke.

Almost.

With a sigh he went to take another sip but froze with it halfway to his mouth as he heard the door to the pub open and the patrons suddenly crying out Frisk’s name.

He may have been a comedian, but he hated irony.

On habit he peered over his shoulder and Frisk’s eyes locked on him.

With a rush she hurried to the bar, signing greetings to every monster that she passed but never once slowing down. She was just as excitable as always, full of unending enthusiasm that Sans couldn’t keep the grin from his face even with the dour mood he was in.

“hey kiddo.” 

She puffed up her cheeks with a pout the second she slid onto the stool next to him.

‘ _You didn’t tell me you were going to Grillby’s today! I wanted to try his new burger!_ ’

He chuckled awkwardly. “oh does he have a new one? didn’ notice, seeing as i already get the best burger every time i eat here anyways.”

Frisk lifted her hands in rebuttal but paused with a small tilt of her head. 

‘ _You sound funny…_ ’ She glanced down at his hand. ‘ _Are you...drinking?_ ’

He shuffled in place but gave a lazy shrug. “yep.”

Frisk immediately looked concerned. ‘ _But you don’t drink…_ ’

“far as you know.” To prove his point he intentionally slurped some of it down.

She didn’t laugh.

Pity.

‘ _Sans, is something wrong?_ ’

Like a fool he attempted to play it off. “nah~ just chillin’ after a long day of work.” And the way she stared at him gave away how little she believed him.

‘ _You know you can talk to me right?_ ’ She signed slowly, her delicate fingers moving through the familiar motions with expertise. 

Just like that, Sans remembered why he was at the pub again.

“mm, the problems i have are nothing for kids like yourself to hear about.” He didn’t mean to sound harsh, but it felt so bitter and ironic that the one person he had a problem with he couldn’t talk to about it, it would only encourage her.

Frisk looked offended.

‘ _I’m twenty-three years old! Whatever is wrong I can handle hearing it, we can work it out together!_ ’

He already knew what her solution would be, and that was way too much of an opening that could lead to a very dangerous situation for them, it wasn’t worth the risk. “nope, can’t do that.”

She went quite as he stared down the bar at Grillby and tapped his glass against the bar to ask for a refill. He tried to keep his eyelights on his old flaming buddy as he approached but he didn’t miss the way her nose cutely wiggled in frustration from the corner of his sockets.

It made his bones tighten at the joints, and burn uncomfortably.

Frisk was killing him, slowly but surely.

She was silent and lost in thought as Sans got his refill. She was so distracted that she didn’t sign an answer to Grillby when he’d asked if she wanted anything, choosing instead to politely wave him off.

A blush flared her cheeks. ‘ _Is this about my feelings towards you?_ ’

Why did she have to be so damned smart?

He pinched his nasal ridge with a tired groan. He was not prepared at all to have this conversation, not tipsy and certainly not in public.

“look kiddo, it’s complicated, you’re too young to understand-”

The way she vigorously moved her hands was disorienting. ‘ _I am not too young to understand anything Sans! I’m an adult!_ ’

Sans finally slipped and he took a giant gulp of the amber liquid before facing her.

“you will _always be a kid_ compared to me...i’m more than five times your age kiddo no matter how old you get that won’t change.” He said sternly through gritted teeth. 

The frown she gave him was more than earned. 

However, though he could see the disappointment in it, it was still full of that unrelenting determination, still so overflowing with DT just like her crimson soul that he knew she still hadn’t given up yet and probably never would without being pushed.

Sans forced himself to look away. “i’m a monster, and you’re human, in the long run i’m going to outlive you frisk. it wouldn’t work...” His voice wavered. “...even if we wanted it to.”

He reluctantly looked back at her, panning his gaze over her soft brown locks and lingering on her open and vulnerable expression, and painfully he said the words he knew he had to, leaving a vile taste on his tongue as he slurred them out.

“you shouldn’t hope for us, cuz it ain’t ever gonna happen.” 

Frisk’s voice was timid and weak from disuse, but it’s faint rasp was more than enough to send a jolt of pain through Sans’ soul as his sockets widened.

“But I...love you…”

The whole time he’d known her Frisk had never once spoken out loud, not even Tori had heard her voice, and what a tragedy was it now for him to hear that delicate lit, that sounded like such rapture to his ears, used for the first time when he had no choice but to hurt her.

“sometimes love isn’t enough.”

Frisk looked as if he’d ripped her heart out.

She was still beautiful, even while wearing such a broken expression as tears silently began to run down her cheeks, it took everything for him not to reach out and brush them away. 

It reminded him of when she was small, after the first time she’d scraped her knee while trying to ride a bike. Frisk had cried for hours, she’d gripped his coat and had buried her chubby cheeks into the fabric as she’d refused to let go of him even at the temptation of her mother’s butterscotch pie.

Sans had loved it. 

He had loved how she’d clung to him like a koala that he’d even kept her zipped up in his coat as he’d taken her to work the hot dog cart with him. In fact he couldn’t remember when she’d eventually let go or had been moved, all his memories lingered on was how she’d fallen asleep with him as they’d watched _My Favorite Martin_.

She’d always been so warm, so soft, so cute that he couldn’t help but adore her.

Couldn’t help but to eventually fall for her.

Where had the time gone between then and now? 

When had he last held her or innocently kissed her forehead? 

Vaguely he thought about what it’d be like to attempt that now; she’d grown so much taller than him she wouldn’t fit in his jacket anymore let alone be reachable for a peck without having to bend down, and her body had turned so shapely and voluptuous that just the thought of having it against him in any way brought a faint blush to his skull, let alone having it cuddling against him on the couch.

His grip on the glass tightened.

“it’s better to hurt now than worse later, trust me on that _kid_.”

The sudden slamming of her fist on the bar made him jolt, his eyelights shrinking as his body tensed at the way she glared at him definitely through bloodshot eyes. 

Her voice shook but it was firm and angry. “Stop calling me a kid! I..haven’t been one in...six years!”

“frisk-” He tried but she cut across him.

“This...isn’t about my age, is it? Not really.” He frowned but she continued. “You’re just scared! Scared that...if something happened you’d lose me, aren’t you?”

Sans stared at her incredulously, what was he supposed to say to _that_? 

The thought of her leaving him or of them ever being separated had never once crossed his mind. But now with the words being shoved in his face it made him numb.

Frisk pushed to her feet as she avoided looking at him, and that hurt the most.

That tore him apart inside.

“I…” She hesitated before finally glancing at him forlornly. “I’m not going anywhere Sans.”

Hearing her say his name made it hard to breathe.

“At least...not for a long time. And isn’t that important?...the time we do have...being spent together?” Frisk wiped her face on her sleeve before giving an empty laugh, and sadly went right back to signing.

‘ _I’m going home, Mom wanted me back in time for dinner._ ’

It was bullshit, he could tell it was so obviously bullshit.

But if she wanted an out he couldn’t blame her. 

“...k.”

He didn’t go after her as she left, he couldn’t bring himself to even watch her go out the door like he’d always habitually do. 

Instead Sans glared at the wall of liquor across from him and downed the rest of his drink, all while praying that this agony he now felt would be long forgotten by the time he woke up from the inevitable black out he was desperately seeking.

...He missed her voice already...


End file.
